Nonplussed
by Vergil's Inferno
Summary: The best job in the world lands in Dante's lap… but so does his boss. Disclaimer: characters belong to Capcom. Story, plot, and gruesome detail belong to the deep recesses of our subconscious.


The knocking didn't stop. Vergil's usual routine involved three loud ones, a wait of two minutes, another three, and then his patience would give in and he'd walk away. What Dante heard this particular morning was the furthest thing from normal; both hands thundered furiously like a woman scorned against the brittle wooden door – even though it was triple bolted, the metal began bending at their hinges, whining at the sheer force reverberating from the outside. Dante cuddled further under his industrial strength covers and fluffy feather pillows, hoping Vergil would either get tired out or hurt from multiple splinters.

He eventually gave up his useless attempt at hiding and threw the covers to the other end of the bed, and to his amazement the knocking stopped. He sat on the edge happy that he could go back to sleep; the idea made no sense in his brain and he began feeling undeniably uncomfortable. Almost as if on cue, the hairs stood on the back of his neck as he retreated to the en-suite and his bedroom door splintered into a thousand pieces from the immense power radiating off of his brother. Numerous shards of different thickness stuck out at abnormal angles from the walls and would have annihilated every breathing human being that resided in the small space. "You know, if we were vampires I'd be dead by now."

Vergil stepped through the threshold holding his iPad with an iron grip not taking his eyes off the screen. "Dante, if we were vampires we wouldn't install wooden doors, let alone own any wooden furniture." The grape flavoured lollipop that hung out of the corner of his mouth bobbed happily against the onslaught of his tongue. He pulled it out, simultaneously taking a look at the damage he had caused, and the wince that overcame him was a pretty good understatement. He looked at his brother and shrugged apologetically; Dante was close to believing it.

One of the hinges sat comfortably lodged in his bedside dresser, a few inches away from where his head had been seconds ago; he tried prying it with his bare hands but it had no give. Vergil really pulled a number this time. "Can we get to the part where you explain why you needed to turn my room into a medieval torture chamber?" He sat back in his bed and resumed his favourite foetal position while Vergil sprang to the edge and scooted up to Dante's level, mirroring his actions.

Without a single word, Vergil handed his electronic companion over. He gauged Dante's reaction with a keen eye every time this specific subject popped up and he already had a big brother speech in his back pocket should he find it in himself to refuse this certain opportunity. A silence ensued with the occasional grunt from the other side of the bed. If Vergil was anything he wasn't a time waster, so he unwrapped another lollipop while his brother intently read what was given to him.

"This doesn't look too bad."

Finally – sense was coming out of his mouth. Vergil watched as he scanned over the webpage again, reading between lines that weren't there, like it was too good to be true. He had cracked him – he found a job offer Dante took a liking to, and he assumed his brother was searching for any catches that could screw him over in the background. He decidedly added his final nail into the coffin. "I have all your paperwork sorted downstairs. There are just a couple of things you need to sign and then-"

Dante faked a wounded expression and dropped the device in his lap. "You don't trust me to do that myself?"

Vergil grabbed at the iPad. "I don't think you do either, Dante."

Touché.

He was halfway through completing some mission on some game when his cellphone rang. When Vergil moved in, his overbearing persistence in becoming more modernised resulted in disconnecting his trusted dial-up and shifting to the new age of mobile devices – in some way it worked well in that making contact with him was now seamless, and that also seemed to be the problem owing to Dante not being able to ignore his calls. His excuses stayed within the range of 'I wasn't home' and that was all he had in his repertoire; now he had to think out of the box and either become really creative overnight or just man up and answer them. The latter seemed to hurt much less, so that's what he did. Another trick he learned was to have his ringtone a song he really liked and the guilt wouldn't be too heavy afterward.

Thankfully he wasn't playing online and he quickly clicked the SELECT button. "Devil M- Umm, hello."

"Good afternoon. Am I speaking to Dante?"

Living for hundreds of years among humans had done wonders to his memory regarding select voices of his clients, and even so he didn't recognise the one on the other end of the line. Distinct, proper, dignified, crisp, strong; the total opposite of the people he was used to dealing with. This could only be bad. "Yes, speaking. Am I in some sort of trouble?" His attempt at sounding as gracious fell flatter than the first impression he was trying to make.

He heard a small chuckle over the line. Okay, not all was lost. "No, not at all. This is Nero, CEO of Cypher Incorporated – it is to my understanding you sent a job application through for the position as my assistant."

Even worse: his potential boss now thought he was a nutcase. Great. "Yes. You have the right Dante." He mentally and physically slapped himself in the head. Dante tried his best to keep the dread away from every part of his brain, but his brother was quicker – Vergil slid past the curtain that served as his temporary bedroom door with an encouraging look on his face. It was pointless to worry now.

Thankfully, another chuckle sounded. "I'm calling to set up an interview for tomorrow; is one o'clock okay with you? I may or may not be done with a meeting at that time, but my lunch break is all the free time I will have off. I would love to have someone suitable by Friday and start the week after." Dante heard pages ruffling, drawers being opened and closed, and multiple pens being clicked and scribbled. "Can I pen you in?"

"Please do." He made a thumbs up to Vergil and the elder beamed. "And thank you for this opportunity, Mr-"

"Call me mister anything and you can kiss your ballsack goodbye, okay? It's Nero. That's it."

It was his turn to giggle; his almost-boss already sounded like a no-nonsense badass. "Noted. Thank you, Nero."

Whatever book he had in front of him was heaved shut and the pen replaced. "See you soon, Dante." Before the phone went dead, he would swear on his life he could hear Nero smile as he said his name.

"Interview tomorrow." Rather than assuming he had it in the bag, he was going to use the rest of his time to prepare for the next day. Nero had probably interviewed tons of people since the day the advertisement was released and standing a chance against a candidate who put his best foot forward since day one was going to be difficult, but he wasn't going to go down without having done his best the only way he knew how. He turned to his brother and mouthed HELP.

The twins entered the reception area and were met by countless women giving them the once over; Vergil was calm and cool, knowing the effect he had on the opposite gender, returned their stares and seldom allowing a small smirk to power through his cold features. Dante ignored everyone in the area and went straight for the lady behind the desk to avoid anything that might distract him. They had ample time to sit back and enjoy the building and all it had to offer, but the younger was on edge – the most on edge Vergil had ever seen him – and would probably spend the rest of their time together calming the poor man down.

His big strides took him to the reception desk in record time. Vergil lagged behind to do some networking of his own. "Hi. I'm here for-"

"The interview. Dante, correct?" The receptionist was busy clicking away at her keyboard and spoke without looking at him.

"Yes, that's me."

He was handed over his key card and told that Nero would be a few minutes late. Thanking her, he turned and gaped at his brother in the other corner of the room sipping on lemon water. He was never good at reading Vergil – even from a distance – and he could see that something else was eating at his mind. It was always safer not to tread where Vergil himself wouldn't, and nagging him about it may end up on the destruction of half of the planet he chose to occupy. Still, there was very little he could hide from Dante because of the demonic-twin link they shared – he had just curbed his urge to pry.

"Why do you look more stressed than I do?"

Vergil drank the rest of his water quickly, then scooped up and chewed on the gigantic pieces of lemon that were wedged at the bottom. "This is my proud face, Dante." He bit hard into the fruit and turned to Dante, squirting a couple drops of lemony freshness onto his suit.

"Go fuck yourself, big brother."

Vergil pulled a sour face. Whether it was at his brother's statement or the juice dripping from his hands no one would know. "Don't call me that; we're in public."

Dante thought up a good enough comeback but was interrupted by the loud ping of an elevator that he had not noticed before. The steel doors opened to reveal four very pristine suits, three black and one navy blue, talking in conversation like they had been childhood friends for longer they had been on earth. The three in black were laughing heartily at something unknown to the naked eye, but Dante focused all of his attention on the youngest in the pile wearing the navy suit. He could have been no older than twenty three, muscled and slim build, broad shoulders, and the shiniest head of jet-black hair he had ever seen. He couldn't smell a hint of arrogance on him even when it was evident he was born into money Dante wished he had. His smile and handshakes were genuine, his eye contact was miles away from intimidation, and the aura around him brought peculiar warmth that he had not experienced. He even had a cute habit of tilting his head while speaking to the other three – he guessed it was for aspects with the element of interest or surprise that caught his attention – but it was adorable. Dante watched as he floated with grace toward the entrance and let the three visitors out of the building, waltzing to the desk in the middle of the room.

"That's him."

The two words he didn't want to but was glad to hear. "He's so young."

He was swivelled in his chair, entranced by his new possible boss when Vergil leaned forward and touched his shoulder, mimicking his posture. "Dante, I'm almost certain that his great-great-great-grandfather that served in world war two is younger than you." After a deep sigh for emphasis he continued. "In fact, the only person alive to be older than you is me, and that's not a good thing by a long shot."

Dante turned further in the direction of his brother and looked him square in the face. "Oh please, it's only three minutes."

Unlike his brother, Vergil kept his eyes on Nero and shook his head sardonically. "Three minutes of pure bliss I will never get back."

Again, a classic retort was cut short by the receptionist pointing in their direction. The man in the suit twisted in slow motion and caught them staring; he moved with composed purpose and an atmosphere of power radiated from his frame. His smile was gentle and sincere and Dante couldn't help but gape at the level of humanity of his calibre. He was honestly intrigued by the man walking towards him.

"For crying out loud, Dante, get your ass up and meet him halfway."

Why he didn't think of that himself he had no idea. Oh wait, he did. "You could have said that ten seconds ago."

Dante slid off his seat with ease and mapped out his way forward. Nero didn't walk all that fast so there was still time for him to make a good second impression. A hand on his bicep stopped him on his first step forward. What was up with today of all days being interrupted all the time? Vergil gave him the traditional good luck squeeze, cute sarcastic giggle on the side. "I didn't think you were going to drool over him, did I?" The hand disappeared in a gust of blue smoke, along with the rest of the body attached to it.

With no further stoppage, Dante plastered on his best smile and walked the last few feet. He tried convincing himself the butterflies in his stomach were from nervousness, but everyone around him knew better. With a boss like that, it was damn close to impossible to concentrate on anything else other than deferring the blood inside your body to flow in the intended direction.

"I'm truly sorry if I made you wait, Dante." Up close, he was definitely something else. "Please, follow me and I'll be out of your hair in no time."

He was led into an all glass office on the thirtieth floor of the building; he had his own minibar in the far corner of the room next to a bathroom Dante assumed was bigger than his bedroom, and a small balcony could be seen from behind a big office chair accompanied by a huge ornate desk. There wasn't enough time for it to all sink in when he snapped back to reality and saw Nero had already taken his seat. Rather than wake him from his daydream, he simply stared at the man across from him. He crossed his legs under the chair and rested his head on his arm, doing his signature head tilt; a small smirk puffed his cheeks watching his potential assistant. As expected he blushed a shade of red Nero had never seen, took his seat, and avoided his eye like the plague.

When he didn't speak and decided for a sip of his brandy instead, Dante ran through all the things he could possibly say and came up with nothing. Nero focused on nothing but him, peering over the rim of his glass as he continued drinking his double shot of something clear. He needed to gauge his reaction to everything he said and did. "Want one?"

The expression on Dante's face illustrated mild contemplation at his question. "I'm good, thanks-" At that moment Nero tongued the rim of his glass as he slid two ice cubes into his mouth and chomped happily. The manner in which the light shone on the excess liquid sitting comfortably on his lips made Dante sit deeper in his chair. "Really good."

What the hell was happening?

The man behind the desk made quick work with the rest of the cubes and moved to Dante's side of the desk, leaning against the edge and crossing his arms over his perfectly toned chest. "The job is yours if you want it." Nero tried and failed at keeping this encounter professional, but the other man's mind was too busy concentrating on not falling apart in his chair. "Mainly on the job training, because I can't remember everything I do in one go. Nothing too hectic, but filing and organising has never been an attribute I've had or wish to learn. Apparently that's bad in my line of work, so I decided to be selfish and a little bit lazy in getting someone to do it for me. I don't wish for the work or position to sound lousy, but I really do need help. It won't entail much and might be routine from time to time, but you will always be with me – wherever I go, whatever I do or say, you will be there to witness it; kinda need that too should any unnecessary crap pop out of nowhere. I don't have much of a good memory, so hey, why not? Does that sound like something you'd be willing to do? It's probably a step down from anything you have done in the past, but I swear to you here and now that I'll be a better boss than all of your previous ones combined-"

"Are you pitching yourself to me?"

Dante's amused angelic face lit up when Nero turned to face him. "Yes; that's exactly what I'm doing."

A small laugh shared between them eased what slight tension there was in the office. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"I'm trying to warm you up before handing the contract over. There may be elements that need explaining and I would hate to see you running from this office when you see it on black and white." He started fidgeting with his hands but wouldn't look away from him. Nero's face transformed from serene to concern and worry, shifting between the two default settings and finally meeting in the middle, consisting of a cocked eyebrow and a stare that shattered your soul to pieces.

The playfulness on Nero's part allowed Dante to relax more. As far as job interviews went, this was by far the best he would have; a job that involved no overcomplicated machinery and an irrevocably gorgeous boss – the only two criteria he would ever have when picking a possible career. He might bother staying here longer than the mandatory two week limit he permitted himself at his other places of work. "Can I at least see it before you judge my character and fatally wound my ego for getting it completely wrong?"

Nero chuckled as he licked his lips and clamped them between his teeth, effortlessly moving behind his desk and reaching into a top drawer grasping the supposedly offending contract. Grabbing a pen and setting it alongside the thin wad of paper, he tapped the back of his chair signalling for Dante to traverse to his side of things. He was too preoccupied in wanting to look flawless for the couple of milliseconds it took him to get there to notice Nero flick two switches underneath his desk – one to set a glaze over the glass and another to softly lock his office door. He retreated to the other side of the desk and unbuttoned his sleeves, leisurely rolling them to his elbows as a practiced act. He looked over to see how far he was.

Dante saw no point in needing to read it carefully. It was a straightforward contract, stipulating his job description, working hours, pay per hour, overtime pay, lunch time, sick leave, compulsory and non-compulsory leave, family responsibility leave, dress code, health and insurance benefits, the process for laying grievances-

And then he saw it: Section 9D – typically considered fine print.

He had to read it through twice to make sure he read it properly, holding a confused smile in his back pocket. "Umm-"

"Yes?" His voice was gruffer than before. Dante tilted his head upward and what he saw needed no clarification. Apart from his appearance, Nero's icy blue eyes showed the other side of the graceful leader he saw when he first entered the building. An unrequited thirst burrowed through his frame, regardless of how well he hid it – it took another with that equal desire to sense it when no one else could, and at this moment it would have been more subtle had Nero walked with a sign around his neck. As an added bonus, his tie sat dishevelled on his chest and the two topmost buttons were undone, and Dante watched his pale chest rise and fall with every breath. "I know what you're thinking-"

His face was deadpan with one thing running through his mind. "I don't think you know what I'm thinking, Nero."

"Fine – what are you thinking, Dante?" He rolled the chair out of the way and placed his hands flat on the desk, leaning forward and flexing his forearms.

The scene unfolding before him came out of a messed up, sadistic fairy tale reserved for those who are amply senseless in choosing to embrace it. Something dangerous was in the air and even if he wanted to fight it, Dante couldn't resist feeding the atmosphere more than was necessary. "That explanation you think you owe me? Is there a possibility to swap for a demo?"

Nero straightened up and smiled. "That is exactly what I thought you were thinking."

He bent down and crawled into the small crevice under the desk snaking in between Dante's legs; in return, the older man dug his fingers into the soft parts of the boss' office chair, gripping onto what could easily be the last titbits of his conscience that may remain with him after Nero's onslaught. He had no idea what to expect from the man hovering over a now prevalent and painful erection in his jeans, but his curiosity didn't last long before he felt the walls of his material prison dissolve under Nero's proficient touch; he took great care in removing the offending clothing without Dante needing to shift or assist him. "You're awfully calm, Dante."

"I did ask-"

The sharp intake of breath from up above was a result of shedding the final piece of material separating Nero's final attempt to persuade Dante over him all out losing his mind. The chair leaned back as he shut his eyes, feeling his hands all over his length, moving slowly and caressing him from top to bottom. Dante could feel the blood in his body rush to accompany the new sensations he was experiencing; sinful as they may be, he couldn't help but spare a last thought as to how amazing it would be to have this sort of–

Nero held him firm at his base as he sucked at a line of precum, repeatedly licking the tender skin on and around his tip. He synced the compressions in his wrist with his mouth, pushing Dante further and further into his throat the harder he squeezed. The man on the chair increased the pressure in his grip the more he felt himself disappear into Nero, trying to steady the over-activity in his lungs to regulate the oxygen flow to his brain.

And Nero couldn't have picked a better time to peel his hand off the chair's arm, finger by finger, and rest it on the back of his head, tracing them mildly and applying pressure to grab his attention. Dante was halfway in, feeling the entirety of Nero's tongue along his length when the mild graze came to his hand, successfully wrenching him from a degree of irrationality that Nero wasn't ready to give to him just yet. He didn't hide his displeasure at being awoken from whatever trance his tongue had placed on him. Dante looked down to see Nero burning a hole in his soul, staring at him with a warning for what was to come; he cocked his eyebrow at the older man while his length vanished between his lips, maintaining eye contact throughout. The man below kept his hand in place while pumping along Dante's length keeping an irregular pace, adeptly drawing out his oncoming orgasm; the harder he pulled at his hair, the more he was losing control, and the more Nero basked in the power of having him wrapped around his finger.

The looming tremble in Dante's arm was what he lived for; his erratic breathing, the involuntary squirm of his hips as it prepared for an explosion of pure pleasure, the raspy moan deep down in his throat that begged for deliverance the second Nero's mouth was on him, and lastly, when he'd snip the thread holding the last of his sanities as it would spew forth from his body and into the back of Nero's throat.

Dante's eyes rolled into his skull as Nero dragged his lips and wetted his semi-erect member, pulsating from the recent chain of events. His breath caught in his chest as he sat up to protest the sudden loss of stimulation, but came face to face with his potential boss. As a final nail in the coffin, Nero rested his forehead on Dante's, licking his bottom lip while his hand trekked under his shirt and fell to his ribcage.

"I think saying 'thank you for coming' is a little ironic at this point."

Vergil read it out loud, triple checking the wording in front of him:

Section 9D – contract between the employee _(please print) and employer _(please print) stipulates the following: the employer, at any point during the allocated working hours, may partake in acts of sexual arousal and/or intercourse with the employee under given consent. It is the responsibility of the initiator to bring forth and discuss courses of action prior to which both the employee and employer shall agree to in a controlled environment. Under no circumstances would the abovementioned acts be encouraged without both parties' approval. In the unlikely event of one party's disapproval during such acts, the deed in question shall not progress to the intended conclusion. Under the legal structure dictated in this contract, the employee may choose to terminate their contract immediately should he/she become progressively uncomfortable with the aforementioned arrangement.

Things constantly seemed more intense when Vergil had his glasses on. He set aside his bowl of carefully crafted fettuccine alfredo and sat diligently with the papers, combing through for any irregularities. He reread the overhead portion as it was the only part of the contract that had deviated from the usual layout. Taking a sip of white wine, he set the paper aside and brought his meal closer. "I see absolutely nothing wrong with this part of the contract." He dug deep for a spoonful of creamy, hammy, mushroomy goodness. "It's worded correctly, it's protecting you as much as it is him, and in all honesty it's quite sweet. Risky, but sweet – he must trust you with everything he has to lose."

Vergil inhaled his pasta spoon by spoon, soon cleaning his bowl to squeaky status before going to dish himself some more. Dante, on the other hand, had a true calling for the other half of the Italian staple – pizza. There wasn't a day he could remember not having the cheesy crusty decadence being delivered fresh to his doorstep and devouring it in less time it took to get to his home. It was under his brother's instruction to cut back on the carbs as he was no longer moving around as much as he did now that he was about to get a stable job. The term 'stable' used loosely.

His day was weird enough; why not end it with his brother's cooking? Dante mirrored his brother in twirling some doughy strands onto his fork. "Of all the words I would expect you to use, 'sweet' wasn't one of them."

A tiny piece of pasta was stuck to Vergil's chin and all its accompanying sauce was spread evenly over the same surface area. "Okay, would you like me to say that he has gigantic balls for putting something this reputation-killing in something as public as an employment contract?" He had a knack for not wasting food – especially pasta and sauces – to the likes of a paper napkin, so he chose the medieval route and wiped it with his index finger, showing more appreciation to the yumminess that a napkin never could. He spoke again with more conviction in his voice like the lawyer he was. "That would insinuate a negative connotation to his actions and intentions when he quite simply just wants some ass while working his off. That's all it is and all it boils down to. You can't get mad at him obeying the carnal urges he was born with and wanting to merge his personal with professional pleasures. You're sexing the boss because that piece of paper legally requires you to."

Dante chewed and swallowed at what pasta he could grab onto; not understanding the use of the giant silver spoon next to him, he struggled continuously getting an even ratio of sauce to pasta. He had to admit – besides the fact that his food did its best to run away from him – it tasted really good. "I never once said I had a problem with it."

They sat in silence for a few moments, allowing Dante's inherent dislike of anything that wasn't pizza to turn down a notch. With Dante close to finishing – being the smartass he was – Vergil pointed to the piece of cutlery set inches from where his fork was and mimed a digging action, putting the imaginary spoon into his mouth and smiling broadly, rubbing his tummy. The younger threw a look of disdain in his direction and grudgingly picked up the offending silverware while his brother strained to not choke on his dinner.

He pushed his finished bowl aside and busied his hands with his half-empty wine glass. "Then why come to me?"

Dante had altogether ditched the fork. "One: I needed you to confirm that I wasn't completely out of my mind in not having a problem with it. Two: I want to make sure that it doesn't look like I'm performing those things in exchange for money." The spoon let him devour his portion swiftly.

He watched Vergil tentatively sip at his glass of bubbles with an absorbed look. It seemed the cogs were moving at a steady pace and he was shockingly not being… himself: protective, difficult, anxious, an overall ass. He swirled the liquid around and then drank the whole lot. "Yeah – this should have been under the 'health benefits' section and not an entirely separate subset." The joke was lost on his brother; it was evident Dante had doubts about the whole thing, but this was the first opportunity he had at a normal life since making the decision to lay low for a couple of years – wait for a while until things calmed down below then wreak his style of havoc as he did before. Vergil held the contract in his hand as he laid an encouraging hand on his brother's shoulder. "From a legal perspective, or at least as far as legalities go concerning aspects like these, it's squeaky clean; covering a lot of angles with very few words, so to speak."

Vergil smiled as he flipped through it. "And you've already initialled each page."

"My penis did that."

The greatest part about that statement was that Dante wasn't even kidding. "In any case, if something goes wrong I'll represent you. No family discount though."

Dante rose and reached across the table to gather the dishes. "I can't afford you, even with a family discount."

"You can afford me in instalments."

"You can start paying rent!"

The lower half of Vergil's face was coated in his signature 'if-you're-trying-to-be-funny-it's-not-working' smile. "Brother, there's a higher chance of you finding a split hair on your head than there is me paying you rent."

Touché.

The contract was carefully tucked under Dante's arm as he walked through the glass doors of his new potential workplace. Once again he was early, making a failed prediction about heavy traffic at one in the afternoon. He briskly walked to reception, same as before, when he was shown the doors to the elevator.

"He knows you're coming. You can go straight up."

Stepping into the elevator and out of earshot, Dante giggled at her choice of words.

He found himself frozen in front of Nero's office door and could hear muffled voices coming from inside. Deciding against being the curious bastard he was, Dante opted for the professional route and knocked softly. It flew open almost immediately as if Nero stood patiently behind it, pulling the door inward and motioning with his head for Dante to step inside. This time the glass walls were already glazed over and the slight click in the door told him that Nero locked it manually behind him. As an act of defiance he perched atop Nero's chair, raising his legs onto the big desk and watching the owner of the office roam the transparent box with a keen eye.

He looked particularly good today, sporting a snug all-black three piece suit with matching converse sneakers and sex hair pointing in every godly direction. Nero's icy blue orbs followed him across the length of the room and smirked at the boost in his confidence while trying to concentrate on the conversation he was having over the phone. The voice on the other end drowned in his ear canal when Dante called him over, ushering him with a single finger; he had given the other half of Nero's conversation more than enough time to make whatever point they needed to and he felt neglected for longer than necessary – he moved his legs from the desk and tapped his thighs, making the most comfortable seat Nero would ever sit in. He obliged, crossing the room faster than horny lightning, but held up a finger as a warning. This is a very important call, he mouthed.

Dante pretended to not know what he was saying, blindly nodding as he pulled him closer to his chest and started with the buttons on his shirt. "Yes, I am aware of that; my signature is on th-" A painstakingly warm breath hit the nape of his neck and his words caught in his throat as Dante smiled, coursing along with his tongue on one sensitive spot over and over again. He accidently ripped the buttons on Nero's waistcoat and threw it somewhere across the room. "I added that part as insurance. Who would sign something without the aspect of coverage-" Dante pushed the bulk of his shirt off his shoulders and dove straight for the base of his neck. Nero's other hand instinctively reached for the back of his head, hoping that pulling at tiny tufts of his hair would quell his intentions. Dante caught it and stopped dead in his tracks, looking him with a stare that could melt gold.

Do you really want me to stop?

Nero moaned into his cellphone and held it at a distance as he floated into Dante. The kiss was soft and sweet – shy almost – until his counterpart wrapped his arms around his lower back, wanting him to control the kiss the way he liked. Catching his signal, the man on top immediately took the reins and steered it along the opposite path as if he were starved of Dante's taste for eons and the thirst for him grew with each millisecond he delayed devouring him. Nero sank into his frame, tasting as much as his body would allow at any given time before the maddening need for oxygen kicked in – although jagged, it did the trick – and his attack on the man below him would continue like nothing happened. The final straw came in the form of Dante snaking his hands under his limp shirt and clawing down the expanse of skin slicked with a thin layer of sweat: the moan that escaped his lips was sensual and hungry, coming from the deep pit of his stomach, and ended in a ravaged growl inside Dante's mouth. Jackpot.

Nero spared a glance at the wad of paper on his desk; he already knew the final verdict.

He lifted the phone to speak. "Can I call you back in a few minutes? Something unexpected has just come up."

It had indeed.


End file.
